Monday, June 30, 2014

Today, I have the fabulous Tara Quan talking about her upcoming book, Operation Owl.

Peep Rep: Does she have a prize?

Liza: In fact she does. Some lucky person will win a $25 gift card as she wanders about exploring Washington DC.

Peep Rep: Oh, Me! Me!

Liza: Complete the rafflecopter at the bottom of this blog, and cross your fingers.

So let's learn more about today's wandering:

Tara Quan’s Operation Owl

Tour of the Capital

THE SPY MUSEUM

Tara: I owe Liza a huge thank you for hosting me today. She literally just dropped by my place to spotlight of her book, Worst Week Ever, so be sure to check it out.Liza: Tara, thanks for the plug. Did you come all the way to my site just to pimp my book? That's awfully nice of you.Tara: Actually, I’m trying something new, which is to chat up my book prior to getting a firm release date.

Because of my impending move to Rome, I may soon experience a prolonged Internet blackout and have prescheduled my stops. To the best of my knowledge, my latest multicultural romancefrom Decadent Publishing comes out some time in July 2014 (so, depending on when you stumble upon this blog, it might be available now). For updates as well as a chance to win a $25 gift card, drop by my website: TaraQuan.com/Owl

Liza: I've attached the rafflecopter on the bottom of this site, but go ahead and visit Tara's site as well. I'm sure it's very interesting.Tara: Thanks. In honor of the place I consider home (what the government terms the National Capital Area), I’m dedicating the posts on this tour to Washington, D.C. and its surrounding suburbs. The romantic comedy I’m very blatantly promoting is set entirely in the US capital.Liza: It's what we authors must do. Otherwise no one will ever know what we are doing. So what's this book about?

Tara: A Beyond Fairytales adaptation of The Owl by Brothers Grimm, Operation Owl features a geeky hacker hero and his bookish best friend. They team up to expose a cyber conspiracy at the heart of the US government and end up indulging in some other equally exciting activities.

In honor of Liza’s upcoming mystery release, The Troublesome Apprentice, I thought I’d highlight the International Spy Museum (dropping by the CIA headquarters, though possible, might yield interesting if somewhat unpleasant results).

Lisa: Can't argue there. While, according to my sources, there are many comics within their ranks, they'd have no since of humor if you tried to tour their base of operations. So let's hear all about the 'not going to get us killed' Spy Museum.

Tara: The museum features a number of interactive exhibits as well as spy equipment from the times of yore (i.e. WWI, WWII, and The Cold War). Since the national museums are free and this one is ticketed, I wouldn’t categorize it as a must-see attraction. But if you’ve got time to burn and kids to distract, it could prove diverting (it’s free for children ages 6 and under, but $21.95 for adults). Of course, you could always opt to buy stuff at the museum store without paying the per-head charge.

One side-benefit of going to this museum is its location in Chinatown. While it doesn’t compare to the ones in San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, or Boston, this isn’t a bad area to get slightly overpriced Asian fusion food. I also highly recommend a stop at Firehook Bakeries down the road on F Street (their cookies are delicious!).

And thus concludes my Capital Area tip for the day.

Liza: Thank you for the tour. For some reason, it made me hungry.

Tara:Sorry about that. Be sure to follow along at TaraQuan.com/Owl as I continue my tour at the blogs of some awesome romance authors.

Liza: Tara, I think you meant to say "OTHER awesome romance authors".

Tara: What? Oh! Right you are. Didn’t mean to exclude you.

Liza: Thank you. So tell me more about Operation Owl.

Operation OwlbyTara Quan

Contemporary Romantic Comedy, Multicultural

Five years ago, Maya Jain kissed her best friend only to have him run out of her dorm room and leave the state. When he shows up in Washington, D.C., a wanted fugitive sought after by every branch of the US government, she can’t bring herself to ignore his plight. As their physical relationship picks up where it left off, she decides it’s time to make him see her as more than the bespectacled, bookish girl he once called “Owl.”

After being accused of espionage and treason, Zack Strong needs a forensic accountant to help clear his name. Not knowing who he can trust, this white-hat hacker has no choice but to ask his former best friend and math tutor for help. Together they unravel a cyber conspiracy at the Barn, an NSA facility tasked to intercept electronic communications. But as they traverse the nation’s capital to avoid capture, Maya insists on letting their simmering sexual tension take its natural course. Even though he’s never been able to shake the memory of their one kiss, he refuses to let her give up her life for a man with no future.

Peep Rep: I love the cover, the girl is so beautiful.

Liza: I love the cover too. How can a geek be so sexy?

Peep Rep: And the story sounds really good. Can we have an excerpt?

“About a year ago, I was contracted by the National Security Agency for what they called Operation Owl.”

Maya turned and squinted at him. “Operation Owl? Are you sure you’re not making this up?”

Zack rolled his eyes. “The irony isn’t lost on me either. Apparently, the person in charge of naming these NSA projects was a Nicodemus fan, so fairy-tale titles were used as operation code names. Mine happened to be The Owl.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You do realize the confluence of operation name, my nickname, and this meeting place supports the theory you’re a schizophrenic conspiracy theorist, right?”

He scowled. “And sane people don’t use words like ‘confluence’ in every day conversation. Do you want to hear my story or not?”

She patted his shoulder. “Sorry. Please continue.”

He had a feeling she was making fun of him but decided to let it slide. “The goal of Operation Owl is simple. The country’s top white hat hackers—”

“And now we can add delusions of grandeur to your list of symptoms,” she murmured.

Detecting a hint of amusement, he cleared his throat. “Some white hat hackers were hired to gain access to the Barn—a bank of servers the NSA uses to intercept any and all electronic communication. The government would like to think the facility is impervious to offsite attacks, but they wanted to make sure. We were given a simple task—break in, retrieve a picture of an owl they hid among the data, and brief them about their vulnerabilities. The people who contracted us were pretty damn sure we’d all fail.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t?”

***

Peep Rep: This is so good. I want it, please!

Liza: I want it too, but it's not soup yet.

Peep Rep: But I found links!

Liza: They are to Tara's author sites. Be patient Peep Rep. This is a pre-release promo.

Peep Rep: What? That's just cruel!

Liza: No, it's practical. According to Marketing 101, you must see a book 7 times before you buy it.

Peep Rep: But this is the first time I've seen the book and and I want it now.

Liza: Me too. I think there may be an exception for really good books. But be patient. Tara will stop torturing us eventually and then we can buy the book. In the meantime, we'll just follow her tour. You can enter the rafflecopter every day and then maybe, for once, you will have your own money to buy the book and you can share it with me.

Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, fantasy worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, her characters are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after. Learn more at www.taraquan.com

Friday, June 27, 2014

Thank you for letting me share my multicultural contemporary romance, Delicious Delay. The book is currently on sale for a limited time. You can grab it for only 99c from Amazon, B&N, AllRomance, and Decadent.

After my own not-so-delicious delay in the Middle East, I set out to write something funny, sexy, and set entirely in an airport lounge. It’s a quick summer read meant to make your mouth water (from the food...) and your toes curl. I hope I’ve piqued your interest enough to give one of the links below a click. ~Tara Quan

Delicious Delay

Stranded in a Middle Eastern airport, Michelle Day finds herself the object of interest for an abrasive, but all-too-sexy stranger—a stranger who tempts her with the forbidden in a land where indecency could get her killed. But how does one say no to such a deliciously, relentless pursuit?

Khalid Al Dehri takes one look at the red-headed spitfire in the business class lounge and knew he’d either been transported to heaven—or hell. Her tart response to his surliness intrigues him beyond all propriety and the longer he spends in her company, the more he can’t deny his forbidden attraction. But will she explore the sensuality between them or will society’s rules keep them apart?

When Michelle managed to peel her lids open, her vision settled on a pair of denim-clad thighs. She shifted onto her back so she could look up and put those limbs into perspective. Whoever they belonged to, the person better have a very good reason for waking her up.

It took a moment before her mind reconciled the man’s face with her still fuzzy memory. Once she realized the identity of the individual staring down at her, she launched straight into a sitting position. What could she have done to offend Mr. Kal-Khalid while sleeping?

She rubbed her eyes and struggled to focus. It took a moment before her mind cleared. He sure cleaned up well. Dressed in a red polo and black jeans, he had gone from striking to drop-dead gorgeous. Jet-black hair brushed his collar, and the curly tendrils softened his angular face. Though he frowned at her, she couldn’t help but feel an undercurrent of attraction.

Until now, she had believed the concept of chemistry a sham. But their few interactions proved otherwise. She may not like him, but she wanted him. She was woman enough to admit this simple truth, though acting on it was another matter altogether.

She tamped down on the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Despite being the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, he possessed zero manners. For some women, sex appeal excused poor behavior. Michelle didn’t subscribe to that philosophy.

About Tara Quan

Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, fantasy worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, her characters are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after. Learn more at www.taraquan.com

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Today, I have the very interesting Kyle Taylor over for an interview and to tell us about his latest book, Wildflower.Peep Rep: Before you begin the interview, are there any prizes?Liza: Kyle will gift a $25 Gift Card from Amazon to the person who writes the most interesting question in their comments. He'll also be giving away surprise books throughout his tour.Peep Rep: Oh, I'm good at asking questions. Here's one: Why do otherwise sane people agree to interviews by Liza?Liza: Well for your information, I intend to behave today.Peep Rep: Why?Liza: Because Kyle turns out to be very interesting on his own, and there is no way I would ever release Fox-like news upon him. Peep Rep: But why not. You release the fox from hell upon your author friends.Liza: Well that's what they get for befriending me. This will be the first time Kyle and I meet. Now go away, because the interview needs to begin.Welcome to my blog, Kyle. Let's get right to the interview. What's your favorite part of writing? Kyle:I enjoy the actual writing process. When I have set in my mind the setting, and the characters involved and what must be accomplished in the scene, I just love letting the characters inhabit my imagination. If you have just enough structure, the characters come to life in your mind but you have to be careful. Margaret Mitchell worried that you have to marshal and guide them or else they can take over and change your plot. Liza: Hold on, you are taking character control lessons from Margaret Mitchell? The woman who wrote a never ending book, letting her 'heroine' marry countless times, dress up in curtains, and allows the story to end in a shocking down note when Brett says his infamous last words? So I'm concluding your characters do whatever they want and God help us all. Now, is there anything you don’t like about being a writer? (Other than interviews with annoying Liza?)Kyle: I am the worst—the absolute worst—editor of my material. I’m dyslexic and I have a terrible time spotting simple errors. It looks great in my mind, though! Liza: I've the same problem with editing and no excuse for it, other than my fingers think they are secret agents and type in code.So, what part of your book was the hardest to write?Kyle: Not to be a spoiler, but death is a major theme in the book. I didn’t expect how strongly the theme would resonate. Barbette lead me there. He had to face death every night in his act. When he contracted polio, he told his doctor he wanted to die. Maybe it’s personal foreshadowing? Who knows, maybe I’ll have a heart attack at the end of this interview. You could say your questions brought it on.Liza: Oh, no! I'm not taking the blame for killing you. Your characters...the ones you leave standing... will come after me. Speaking of out of control characters, has a secondary character ever threatened to take over your book? Kyle:The surrealist writer and artist Jean Cocteau came close! Like many geniuses, he was absolutely insatiable. He had to devour Barbette. He had this drive to experience and consume—lovers, drugs, art—you name it. So I had to temper Cocteau. His manic energy contrasts with Barbette’s consistency. Barbette had to work constantly to refine his act and stay in top physical condition. Cocteau seemed to do best when he lived right on the edge of total collapse. Liza: Just so you know, I never condone cannabalism, so tell Cacteau to behave himself. Now describe the hero/heroine in 5 words:

Kyle: Glamorous. Perfectionist. Genius. Survivor. Lost.Liza: Who's your favorite character in the book & why?Kyle: Princess Violette Murat. She’s a real person. I adored her! Her lineage was from the Bonaparte’s. She was a wealthy, hefty lesbian. She was completely decadent and flaunted her empiric lineage. As preposterous as she was, I believe she had a wonderful heart. The joke among the surrealist artists of the time was that Violette was more of a truffle than a violet. If Barbette had a fag hag, in my mind, Violette was it.Liza: I went searching for pictures, but couldn't find any for Violette. However, I checked out a lot of Princess Bonapartes pics and they all look like strong independent women. The Napolean genes....no doubt.

Liza: What's your favorite line in the story?Kyle: “More fun than a sexy party!” It’s the slogan for my book. It was an actual line from Barbette. I love it because it shows his sassy dry sarcasm. Those who worked with Barbette seemed to adore his scalding tongue. Liza: What event occurred in your life that has influenced your novels?Kyle: My own curiosity about my gay sexual orientation makes me curious about gay history. I’m striving to uncover stories of the last century, when gay love was considered sinful or unlawful. Gay people need heroes. Barbette needs to be raised up. He was brave. He was a pioneer in so many ways, yet not many people know about him.Liza: Well, I'm glad you've brought Babette to light. If he had been allowed to write the novel rather than you, how would the story have been different?Kyle: Ever the showman—or should I say

‘showwoman’? (Haha!)—Barbette would present his life in the best possible, most glamorous way. But I think it was the grit, the struggles in his life that really define him. So much of Barbette wasn’t the glossy glamour queen he presented. His genius sprung forth from a tenacious determination only creative vision can generate. Liza:How would you describe your relationship with your muse? Have you ever needed intervention?Kyle: Barbette inhabited my brain while writing Wildflower for sure! The more I dug into his story, the more impressed I was by who he was and what he accomplished. He drove me to push for perfection. It was a truly powerful, transformative experience for me. Liza: I was surprised to learn Barbette grew up in a small Texas town?Kyle: Sometimes I think people want to divorce the gay experience from the American experience, which is a theme of all of my books. Barbette was so American. He was also very Texan. As much as he disdained Texas for its lack of refinement, he also possessed a Texan’s thick-as-iron spine. Barbette dreamt it. He worked hard with discipline and dedication to give birth to his vision. He thrived in a world he created in his own terms. When it looked as if his career was finished, like a true American, he reinvented himself. His life is a bonafide American experience! Liza: This has been a fascinating interview. Please tell me more about your book.

Wildflower

The Dramatic Life of Barbette --

Round Rock's First and Greatest Drag Queen

By

Kyle Taylor

“More fun than a sex party!”

— Barbette

Long before Ru Paul eyed his first pair of six inch stilettos or Boy George donned his colorful caftan, a handsome young man from the small town of Round Rock, Texas barnstormed the stages of Europe’s most lavish theaters and night clubs as Barbette, a beautiful aerialist drag queen who became a scandalous sensation throughout the Roaring Twenties.Performing his erotic, high wire and trapeze routine in lavish, feminine regalia, Barbette shocked audiences by revealing the true nature of his gender at the very end of his act.From a child who picked cotton and walked his mother’s clothes line to headlining at the Moulin Rouge in spectacular drag, Wildflower reveals long-forgotten secrets of this enigmatic performer: his arrest in London on morals charges, his bout with polio, his infamous collaborations with some of Hollywood’s greatest stars— Orson Welles, Vincente Minnelli, and Judy Garland, Jack Lemmon, and Tony Curtis as well as his hidden affair with French surrealist Jean Cocteau.Wildflower captivates with every page, dramatically revealing the startling and at times heart-breaking story of Round Rock’s first and greatest drag queen.

“You need to take a French lover. It is how you will learn quickly,” Princess Violette said instructively. Her voluminous frame rested on a simple wooden chair, similar to the one Vander sat at in front of his vanity—her girth permitting her to only sit like a man, with her legs open, the heels of her shoes flatly on the floor. “Yes, preferably one with a mustache!” Radiguet joked. Vander’s face colored.“Ah, look he blushed!” Radiguet laughed robustly. Jean Cocteau grew more serious as he looked intently at Vander. “I must confess, I have seen your show many times in the past week. You are an angel, a flower, a bird.” “Oh dear!” Radiguet rolled his eyes. “Please!” Cocteau turned to Radiguet his eyes darting a flash of anger. Radiguet slumped into the armchair, knowing when Jean Cocteau had a point he wanted to make he would not tolerate distractions. “I have written a review. It shall be published tomorrow, but I wanted to come back here tonight, for what I have written in it, I can only say to you personally—tonight’s performance was again confirmation of my earlier impressions.”Vander nodded toward Cocteau apprehensively as the Frenchman pulled from his coat a couple of sheets of scrawled manuscript. He started to read from them:“The curtain goes up on a functional décor—a wire stretched between two supports, a trapeze, and hanging rings. In the back, a sofa covered with a white bearskin.”“I love the bearskin!” Radiguet smiled, but Cocteau immediately silenced him with his hand as he continued to read from his manuscript. “Barbette enters adorned in ostrich feathers and a flowing lamé evening gown. As he removes his evening gown, he begins to perform a scabrous little scene—a real masterpiece of pantomime, summing up in parody all the women he has ever studied, becoming himself the woman—so much so as to eclipse the prettiest girls who precede and follow him on the program. Bursting on the audience as a ravishing creature he throws his dust with such force that from then on he is free to concentrate on his wire work, in which his masculine movements will help him instead of giving him away. He is no mere acrobat in women’s clothes, nor just a graceful daredevil but one of the most beautiful things in the theatre.”

Kyle Taylor is the author of Wildflower, Exposition and Billion Dollar Dreamer. The Kyle Taylor character debuted in Billion Dollar Dreamer as a journalist who was assigned to write a story about high school history teacher cum overnight billionaire John Driskil. He resides in New York—and of course he is a work of fiction! You can contact Kyle at BillionDollarDreamer@gmail.com.

What do you get when you put a hardworking, can-do middle-class young woman together with an egoistical, outrageous, billionaire boss, then throw in the worst week of disasters imaginable?

Book 1 of the 4 book series A Long Road to Love, named Worst Week Ever.

Trent Lancaster spends one month without his Executive Assistant (or as his driver refers to Carrie: 'Trent's brain, left hand, and right hand'). He's had a miserable month without her at his side and to ensure it never happens again, he intends to marry this brilliant beauty. Only given all the times he's threatened to fire her, he's not sure she even likes him. However, the future of his company and his happiness depend upon him succeeding, so Trent begins a slow one week seduction that happens to coincide with Carrie Hanson's Worst Week Ever when everything that can go wrong does so in hilarious form.

(Hilarious to the reader, Carrie is not having much fun this week.)

Excerpt

Carrie squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the thump of a body against the limo’s hood.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted Sam take a shortcut,” Trent muttered beneath his breath.

She groaned softly. If her boss questioned his actions, then matters must look grim outside. She tensed even further, expecting to hear multiple bodies slam into the car.

Sam braked hard, turned right, and resumed driving a billion miles an hour. If not for the seat belts, she and Trent would’ve sailed into the front seat, and then plastered against the door. To secure her further, Trent protectively placed an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his warm chest.

She focused on the thumping of his heart. It beat once to three of hers. God, how can he be so calm?

Determined to match his bravery, she tried to raise her head, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Just a little longer, I hope. Sam, when do we depart this third world country?”

“Two more blocks, sir.”

“Thank God. You’ve terrified poor Carrie to death.”

Instantly, the limo’s speed dropped.

She turned her head sideways so Sam might be able to hear her words. “Your driving doesn’t frighten me, Sam, the neighborhood does.”

As if on cue, a round of three loud pops sounded, followed by three thunks into her side door. She squeaked like a mouse at the first thunk. By the third, her body shivered in fear.

Trent’s arms tightened around her as the limo picked up speed again. “We’re okay,” he assured her, then his lips pressed against her temple. His calm certainty silenced her tremors.

Having successfully soothed her, he released his outrage upon Sam. “Why the hell did you drive us through here?”

Sam calmly replied as he drove the car at a billion miles an hour, taking corners at deadly speeds. “I warned you the locals might not welcome us.”

“Someone just shot at us?” Trent yelled.

Sam’s nonchalant reply sounded almost surreal. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for you to take it personally, sir.”

Maybe none of this is happening. Maybe I fell asleep in the traffic and my dream has gone rogue.

Her heart calmed and she nuzzled closer to Trent, breathing in his masculine scent. Secure in her dream, she confessed something she never would in real life. “You smell good.”

Trent’s arms relaxed a bit and he chuckled. “It’s called Trent. I had the cologne custom developed. They assessed my natural odors and then determined the optimal combination of scents to create my unique smell.”

She snorted. Even in her dreams, he remained the strangest man she’d ever met. If she had all the money in the world, she’d try to end poverty and violence in…whatever hell they’d just driven through, not have some custom designed perfume created so she’d smell really, really good.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Today, we have the multi-published romance author, Amber Lea Easton here to talk about her book Dancing Barefoot.Peep Rep: Hope she's dancing alone, because otherwise, she'll have aching toes from being stepped upon.Liza: She's definitely not dancing alone, but before you ask me more questions, let's check out the book.

DANCING BAREFOOT

BY

AMBER LEA EASTON

Release Date: May 22, 2014

Genre: Contemporary Romance Drama/Women's Fiction

Heat Level: Steamy

Jessica Moriarty appears to have it all—a successful career as an architect, a loyal group of friends, a gorgeous apartment, and an on-again-off-again affair with Boston's most eligible bachelor. Behind this “perfect life” façade, Jessica hides the loss she feels over giving up her dream career as an artist, copes with a destructive relationship with her alcoholic mother, and struggles with heartbreak over a lost love.

Jacques Sinclair only needs his cameras, a backpack, and a good pair of walking shoes. A world-renowned photographer, he is a man without boundaries. Despite fame and fortune, he still yearns for the woman who shattered his heart when she vanished from his life five years ago.

A chance meeting brings Jacques and Jessica back together. Reunions aren't always planned or welcomed, but chemistry has a way of revealing what is denied. Ensnared in a web of sabotage and conspiracy—carefully constructed by people who want to control their lives—Jacques and Jessica struggle to trust each other, break free from the status quo, reclaim their love, and build a life of extraordinary possibility.

A TASTE OF EARLY REVIEWS

4 stars via Avid Reader

"I loved this story.

It was refreshingly honest, brutally tragic, and at times lyrical in it's flow. Their connection was so intense that as I read it, I was like this absolutely cannot survive. Love this intense and in your face has a slow burn to it, and will torch everything in i's path until it is stamped out...There was nothing contrived about it. I felt like I was literally a fly on the wall and this was happening in reality and not fiction land. I liked them both, probably one of the best couples I have ever read."...read entire review http://goo.gl/R191Sa

5 stars via ChristophFischerBooks

"Conflicting emotions and insurmountable chemistry cause both of them to reassess the past, their current lives and priorities. Easton shows the magnetic and hypnotic effect of physical and emotional attraction very well and the gradual crumbling of outer facades and deep inner resolve. This is a romantic fantasy written in a convincing and heart warming manner and with enough complications thrown in to make for a very entertaining and gripping read."...read entire review http://goo.gl/R191Sa

She stood on the threshold of the bookstore dodging patrons and pedestrians. Ten past seven. Regret sagged her knees. For the second time in her life, she labeled herself the Queen of Self-Sabotage. As if leaning against a fierce wind of remorse, she pushed the door open, and forced one foot in front of the other.

“I’m looking for Jacques Sinclair.” She forced the words from a too-dry throat.

“I’m sorry, you just missed him.” The employee didn’t look up from the stack of books she arranged on a table.

Missed him. She nodded without truly understanding how she could have undermined herself like this. Again. “He’s really gone then?”

The girl worked as if she hadn’t spoken, head down, oblivious.

Her gaze connected with the cover of Jacques’s book. Legs heavy and unsteady, she maneuvered toward the display until she touched the cover with her fingertips.

Rome.

Closing her eyes, she smelled the overpowering scent of the roses, felt the early morning breeze against bare skin, sensed him moving behind her, tasted him on her lips, heard the low sound of his voice saying her name.

“Excuse me, do you know if Mr. Sinclair is staying in Boston tonight?” she asked.

The woman looked at her as if she were a stalker. “He probably went back to New York. His gallery exhibit isn't until next weekend.”

“Back to New York?” Information overload crashed her system. So close. The same side of the Atlantic. She braced herself against the counter.

“He lives in New York,” she answered as if speaking to a small, slow child.

“Right. He has an exhibit next Saturday. I saw that in the article...what gallery?” She handed over her credit card and blinked at the cover again.

"The Bliss Institute."

Breathing ceased again and she silently cursed Fate. Her friend Miranda owned the Bliss Institute. What was happening? Did Jacques know that? Of course not, how could he? She felt like an insane woman on the precipice of a major nervous breakdown.

“Are you all right?” The woman grabbed the book and slipped it into a bag.

“Perfect, never better.” She needed a martini…she’d give her life for a martini. Oblivion sounded like heaven right now.

The girl handed her the receipt before stepping away as if afraid of catching the insanity bug.

Six weeks. Jacques planned on being in Boston for six weeks.

Laughter from upstairs halted her retreat. As if dragging her legs through mud, she walked toward the stairs. With every step, memories overpowered her. Laughing in bed with rain falling outside open windows, whispered secrets in the dark, sharing wine directly from the bottle, feeding each other bread with their fingertips.

Him asking her to marry him, her saying yes.

Her throwing it all away for reasons that now seemed meaningless.

“We should go, Jacques. We’re running late. Miranda's already at the restaurant.” A stick-like man with shaggy brown hair and black-framed eye glasses appeared at the top of the stairs.

She stood on the bottom step, one foot poised to ascend, her hand on the railing and blocking the way. She clutched the bag to her side and turned to flee.

“Jess?” The quiet question stopped her descent. “Jessica Moriarty?”

She gripped the railing and looked up at him.

Jacques stood at the top of the stairs, blond hair falling across his forehead and skimming his ears, different from the picture on display, more like it had been when they'd known one another, shaggy and disheveled. Emerald eyes snapped with fire as his gaze raked over her from head to foot. A cobalt blue shirt had been stuffed into black jeans, half in the waistband and half out as if he simply didn’t give a damn. He’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms, and a leather bracelet twisted around his left wrist. He walked toward her like a predator who’d cornered his prey. Slowly...surely. Sexuality oozed from his pores with every step he took.

She stepped back and swallowed the rush of saliva that flooded her mouth.

Link to the prequel, In Between: an Italian love story, that is a permanent free read on the author blog (14 chapters total): http://goo.gl/T9XCOj

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published fiction and nonfiction author. Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes about

strong female characters who have their flaws and challenges but ultimately persevere. She currently has six contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels out in the world: Kiss Me Slowly, Riptide, Reckless Endangerment, Anonymity,In Between, and Dancing Barefoot. Her memoir, Free Fall, is dedicated to suicide prevention, awareness, and helping others navigate the dark journey of grief.

In addition, Easton works as an editor, freelance journalist, and professional speaker. She speaks on subjects ranging from writing to widowhood. Some of her videos on romance writing have appeared on the international Writers & Authors television network. Current radio appearances are linked via her author website, http://www.amberleaeaston.com.

Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she gives thanks daily for the gorgeous view outside her window. She finds inspiration from traveling, the people she meets, nature and life’s twists and turns. At the end of the day, as long as she's writing, she considers herself simply to be "a lucky lady liv'n the dream."

Easton also publishes under the name Dakota Skye who has one paranormal erotic romance, Blurred Lines, currently available and another, Deadly Decadence, due out in the fall of 2014

Peep Rep: Why'd you title the book Dancing Barefoot? That's not safe, you know.

Amber: While writing this story, I listened to a lot of U2. One of their songs is called 'Dancing Barefoot' where they sing of spinning ceaselessly and losing gravity. "Oh God I fell for you" is one of the lyrics. It truly struck a chord within me—no pun intended. In fact, I've included the lyrics to the original Patti Smith song on the dedication page of the novel.

Peep Rep: I hadn't heard that song, so I found a youtube on it. You know, they've got a youtube for everything.

But if you don't mind, can I have the lyrics, because I don't understand half what these guys say.

Amber: Not a problem.

Here are the original lyrics sung by Patti Smith, later redone by U2.

Dancing Barefoot Song Lyrics (Patti Smith)

She is benediction

She is addicted to thee

She is the root connection

She is connecting with he

Here I go and I don't know why

I flow so ceaselessly

Could it be he's taking over me

I'm dancing barefoot

Headin' for a spin

Some strange music draws me in

It makes me come up like some heroine

She is sublimation

She is the essence of thee

She is concentrating on

He who is chosen by she

Here I go when I don't know why

I spin so ceaselessly

Could it be he's taking over me

I'm dancing barefoot

Headin' for a spin

Some strange music drags me in

Makes me come up like some heroine

She is recreation

She intoxicated by thee

She has the slow sensation that

He is levitating with she

Here I go when I don't know why

I spin so ceaselessly

'Til I lose my sense of gravity

I'm dancing barefoot

Heading for a spin

Some strange music draws me in

Makes me come up like some heroine

Oh God I fell for you

Oh God I fell for you

Oh God I fell for you

Oh God I fell for you

Songwriters: Kral, Ivan / Smith, Patti

Liza: Thanks for stopping by and sharing your wonderful book with us, Amber. Come back anytime.